Damnit Sam! I'm a scientist, not a doctor!
by TheFandomEater
Summary: Post season-gr8t finale, Pre Iron Man 3. After the trials, Sam goes in search of someone who specializes in radioactive cell mutations due to unnatural forces... and someone who won't question the bizarre. Cue Sick!Sam, DoctorMode!Banner, and, well... Tony.
1. Chapter 1

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Banner-"

"Skip the formalities, Sam, you need to get off your feet. Into the car." Bruce interrupted, efficiently pushing the massive man into the private car Tony had forced upon him, telling the chauffeur to park at the lab entrance of Stark Tower. Having moved permanently into the newly renovated Stark Tower with Tony and Pepper, Bruce had been... cautious to interact with anyone not required in the tower, but Sam's case was different, to say the least. Late in the night, waking restlessly in his "Bruce-I-don't-care-what-you-say-you-can't-keep-sl eeping-in-the-lab" bedroom, Bruce had blearily reached out to answer his private phone which had been ringing through his dreams for much longer than the normal 7 rings.

"Hello?" He said into the phone sleepily.

All he got in response for a minute or so was ragged breathes, but just when he was about to hang up "Doctor," a shallow breath "Banner. I'm Sam, the guy who emailed you for contact about," breath "your specialization in cellular mutation, but," the incredibly shaky voice petered out, audibly embarrassed.

Dr. Banner was fully alert and out of bed by then, hastily sliding pants on while making a mental check list of symptoms in Sam. "But what?"

"I'm at the bus stop," breath "across from the tower and," a small hiss of pain "I'm... I can't walk over there. Could you... Could I get a ride?" And that's how a thoroughly embarrassed and apologetic Sam ended up having a one second car ride to Stark Tower where he was deposited in a wheelchair Bruce had preemptively packed in the car, and was wheeled into the newly redone laboratory that Tony was working in. Ignoring Sam's painfully false remarks of "I'm fine," and "This really isn't necessary,", Bruce reached to type in the lab password and pushed himself and the wheelchair-ie in.

"Tony, I'm gonna need one of the cots. Now." To his credit, Tony's eyes only widened fractionally as he took in a giant and sheepish man having been wheeled in his lab, and he pulled one of the cots away from the wall without complaint.

"Doctor Banner, I really am fine, just a bit sore. Err, tired." Sam protested, carefully lifting himself out of the wheelchair and and onto the sterile cot.

"Well excuse me if a man who all I know about is his entire cardiovascular system was mutated calls me at midnight saying he can't walk a few feet and I get a bit concerned." Bruce said, forcing his voice calm.

While Bruce was fussing about getting an oxygen mask for Sam, Tony pulled the good doctor to the side. "If I may ask, which I may-what the hell is going on?"

**AN: I'll leave it here for now... I have two more chapters prepped, but if you guys want longer chapters than this ,I'll just combine them. Let it be known that this story was written before I saw Iron Man 3, and every single time I write it it seems to be a 2 in the morning. The whole trials-having-mutated-sammy thing is just my headcannon. This story will be the first installment in a series of SuperAvenger fics, all set in the same universe. Until next time, eat some cookies, rub some fluffy cat bellies, and make more fanifction! Bye!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Tony, ah, it's really not my place to say-" Bruce began, but was interrupted by Sam.

"No, it's fine, I'll explain. It's not like he isn't gonna find of eventually." and Sam proceeded to give a watered-down outline of the trials situation, leaving out all of the... extra information. Tony was silenced for a second, but quickly made up for the fact by rapid-speed blabbering about all the tests he wanted to run and possible cures to be derived from Sam's recent mutation and fumbling around his lab merrily for the correct testing equipment until a steady hand on his shoulder halted him.

"Not tonight. Sam's schedule is a little... full." Bruce said, ending the sentence with a meaningful look at the tall man now sleeping fitfully on the cot. "Now help me get this behemoth laying out straight."

* * *

To Tony's credit, never did he once become surprised at the existence of the supernatural-then again, after meeting two gods and saving the world from aliens, nothing tends to surprise you that much. But that first night, or rather early morning, did leave him with questions that Bruce, being the only other conscious person in the building, was appointed to answer. Finally after the fifty-third question, Bruce snapped.

"I don't know Tony! Just ask Sam whether vampirism can affect werewolves when he wakes up!" Bruce snarled, his eyes flashing a dangerous green. If Tony was alone in the house, he probably would have continued baiting Bruce, but with an (apparently bad-ass, monster hunting) innocent incapacitated in the place, the Hulk wasn't something to risk.

At some point deemed close enough to morning, Tony and Bruce went out to eat (JARVIS testily protesting that it was only 3:32 a.m. all of their way out). When they arrived back and checked into the lab it was to their surprise that they saw Sam still asleep. Bruce, understanding how taxing a full-body mutation can be, knew Sam needed all the rest he could get... until it was a full 24 hours later, that is.

"Sir, the limited examinations of Sam's new physiology did not hint at this... luminescence." JARVIS's cool tones interjected amidst Banner trying to convince Stark that the best way to wake up a man whose heart and blood patterns have been genetically altered is _not_ electric shock.

**AN: I know, I know, I'm evil for not updating, but if any of you guys are familiar with my fics, you'll know that this is record time for me. I decided to leave the chapters at this length since I'm a terrible typer, and I now have two more all nice and prepared. Until the next update, eat some cookies, rub some fluffy cat bellies, and make more fanfiction!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: aaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH IM SORRY its just I started school and i have a really busy schedule and for some reason instead of having the most homework in my honors classes I have the most in friggin history cause my teacher is a dick who assigns 4 2-page essays for every three weeks... sorry for the rant, here you go.**

**P.S. I realised that I never put a disclaimer, so all rights go to Marvel and Warner, etc etc.**

Just as they turned to look at the indeed glowing Winchester, Sam awoke with a gasp, his head slamming into the table with the arching of his back. Bruce rushed steadily towards him, trying to calm Sam in a medicinal capacity while Tony stood back, more curious than concerned (though concern was shockingly evident). Tony was brought to more active attention by Bruce repeating Sam's name with a frantic overtone, and Sam seeming to start uttering a reply.

"H-H-Happens, mmmove... grand... mal-" and with that his eyes rolled back, an almost imperceptible twitch forming in his left hand, then spreading throughout his limbs and increasing intensity.

"Shit" Bruce whispered under his breath in a rare use of profanity, sliding a folded towel under Sam's head, moving the cot out of behemoth arm's reach of anything save the floor, and paced back to Tony's place in the lab doorway, throwing furtive glances to his watch.

"Umm, what the fuck is happening to him." Tony said, his eyes wide but voice firmed into an order of explanation.

Bruce spare a glance back at Sam, then his watch, before responding "Just what it looks like... a seizure after, uh, a glowing of sorts. The glowing he mentioned, but the damn kid didn't mention much of anything else." Bruce ran his hand through his hair, huffing impatiently because Sam had _known_ seizures were a possibility, and had obviously had them a good number of times. Tony was fairly cautious, questioning Bruce on seizures and hospitals and isn't-this-a-bad-bad-thing, and for some reason Tony couldn't seem to get it through his head that yes, Bruce can treat Sam's seizure for now, but _no, _if the seizure is longer than four minutes or Sam hurts himself, Bruce _can't _take care of him, because he _isn't a goddamn medical doctor._ By the end of Bruce's answers, he was huffing evr so slightly (which is practically full-on heavy-chested panting for all Tony's concerned) and specks of green defined his eyes.

"Okaaay, Brucey. What's the time at?" Tony none-so-smoothly cooperated.

With a sigh, Bruce flicked his wrist, reporting a 2:30 timing on the seizure from his watch, and Sam's muscle spasms were coming down from their high. "When that man wakes up, I just might have a friend who'd wish to speak with him." Dr. Banner said, rolling up his lilac paisley sleeves menacingly.

**AN: I know, short again, but if I had continued it further it would have been way too long, and I wanted to end on some humor :) (here's the "menacing" shirt Bruce was wearing: .us/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/2107x2705/ 9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/l/a/lathkin_purpl e_xf121055_ )**


End file.
